All Monday afternoon I had my ear to the wall, waiting out the cleaning crew that had come to get our new apartment spic-n-span. As soon as they drove off I began transferring the contents of our place into the new (and only had to venture outdoors once for a larger piece of furniture that wouldn't have made it around the corners between the apartments). I'm pretty pleased with the space, though it's not without its flaws: more street noise, bathroom lacks a window, shower water pressure is sub-par, carpet is not brand new, kitchen cabinets don't have knobs. Oh, and the gas has inexplicably been off all day, so Buggy and I are about to high-tail it to the Khoreys to bask in the heat a few hours early. You know, real near-deal-breakers. The flip sides to these sacrifices are plentiful, however: stunning views (particularly at night) of the lit-up stained glass windows of the Union Project next door, a few stained glass windows of our very own in the living room and entryway, the entryway, charming details characteristic of houses built in Pittsburgh in the 1920s, high ceilings, our very own room (not that I've minded sharing with Goon for the last 11 months. On Monday night we remembered the last night we had a room without Olive: I was hopped up on a homeopathic cocktail to allow me a few hours of rest while Rob timed my contractions. GOOD TIMES!) - and a room that doesn't conjure up memories of working in a walk-in produce cooler, no less, and wainscoting. Heavens, the wainscoting takes my breath away whenever I see it. I didn't know how deprived I'd been all these years until just the other day and I now I don't remember how I got along pre-wainscoting. Sort of like trying to remember what life was like pre-Olive.
We noticed this little guy last night. Animals are literally coming out of the woodwork!
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